


Some Have Entertained Angels

by automaticdoor



Category: Charlotte Bronte - Jane Eyre
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/automaticdoor/pseuds/automaticdoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small, bedraggled, half-dead girl is deposited on Mary Rivers' doorstep and changes Mary's life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Have Entertained Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [folledesmots](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=folledesmots).



> Thank you so much for betaing, Mojave Dragonfly! This story was a labor of love for me, as this is one of my favorite novels. Thus, it was really hard to write, because I wanted to do the canon justice. The title is from Hebrews 13:2.

 

 

When the small, bedraggled, half-dead girl was deposited on our doorstep that horrible rainy night, I knew not how thoroughly my life would be changed because of her.

As she collapsed at our table, my eyes met Diana's, and we shared a look of resignation. Our resources were scarce, but how could we in good conscience, we who professed the Christian faith, turn this mite out to face an inevitable death? So we carried her to a bed - our bed, the one comfort Diana and I possessed - and there laid her, and Diana and I made up a pallet on the floor to take our rest.

When daylight broke the next day, the four of us consulted further. Hannah, of course, was reluctant to keep her here. My brother and sister and I, however, were of a different opinion, and so she stayed, despite the bleak premonitions of Hannah.

We gathered up her things and began to wash them. I was surprised to note that, contrary to their initial mud-soaked and foul appearance, they were in fact of fine material and gently used. "Diana, look at this embroidery! Surely this is no common vagrant."

"What do you suppose Jane's story is, sister? Where does she come from? Why has she run away?"

"How do you know she is a runaway?" I asked.

Diana made a face. "Come now. Clearly she is of fine origins. If she were just a traveler, she would at least have a bundle of some sort, and even if she had been waylaid and robbed, she would have sent word to her kin and sought help."

"Well, what are we to do with her after she wakes up? We cannot keep her forever."

"I suppose that will remain to be seen."

We were out when she awoke. I told her how pleased we were to see her recovered, and bade her go into the parlor. She refused, but Diana led her in, and we made tea, and soon joined her and St. John.

St. John asked her if she was a spinster, and she said she was not married. But, she said it with such a look on her face! She seemed most upset. Diana and I could hardly bear to look, but our headstrong brother stared her down until she began to cry. It was most intolerable. I bade him leave her be, and yet he continued to press. The poor thing! She appeared distraught.

Then, he asked her about her desires, and she said she wished to seek employment, but until such time, she needed a place to stay. Of course we were not going to turn her out, no matter what my idiotic brother might think. Oh, well, I do not exactly mean that. He is most intelligent. He just... well, he is so committed and devoted to his calling to save the world that sometimes he neglects the people in front of him. As you will see, reader, this becomes a problem in multiple ways.

So, we kept her, and studied together, and rambled about the garden. In time, the spring returned to her step, and the color to her cheeks, but she looked so far away sometimes. It quite concerned me. Diana and I had many whispered conversations when she was momentarily absent about her origins. We knew there was something she was not telling us.

"We are still no closer to discovering her secrets," Diana murmured impatiently. 

"Sister, we will not discover them if she does not wish. I still say it has something to do with a lost love, from the look that crossed her face that afternoon in the parlor. But why she would run away, I do not know. Did he perish? Did he marry another?"

"He has probably married another," she said. "After all, had he perished, why would she have run away?"

"I do not know. But, hush! She returns."

And thus the days continued to pass, until the day came near that Diana and I were to return to the city to continue our employ as governesses. I hated the work, but it was better at least than scrubbing floors. It was a pity there was not more that we could do with our educations, but having no money and few connections, we could not even hope to marry well. As I told Diana, we had to be content with our lot in life. She desperately wanted more, and to be truthful, so did I, but we had to accept what we had. After all, we were not starving. 

But, I digress. The day approached, and we were all heartbroken, because Diana and I knew that we would probably never see our brother again. We had to respect him for following his convictions, but really, could he not follow them here in the village? With our father gone and him as good as, Diana and I would be alone and penniless, left to our own devices for protection. And then... there was Jane.

We were all despondent when St. John came with the letter, and more despondent still after he had read it. The letter held nothing of value for us. Who was this other relation? Why were we to be punished for the sins of the previous generation? Diana said she would be content, would have esteemed herself rich, with a thousand pounds. I would have been content with anything. Anything would have postponed working, would have kept us in our old age. Were we to labor until we died?

St. John set Jane up in Morton school. Diana was pleased for her; I was envious. She would be independent, would have her own cottage, would have regular hours, and would get to stay in our little town. Diana and I had to go live with cold strangers once more. Though they were worldlier than our villagers, it still meant sacrificing much. But, as my brother said, sacrifice was necessary. 

Strangely, Jane did not seem extremely happy about this turn of events. I did not understand it. It was not that she seemed particularly sad to part from us; we all were sad about that. Something further was still wrong. Diana and I were still convinced it was a lost love. Our brother would not hear of the notion, stating that he was sure it was just weakness of spirit, and that she would recover after hard work.

"Sacrifice will be good for the girl, Mary. It will make her strong of spirit and of flesh. It is necessary for her to be strong," he said.

"Why, brother, you seem very concerned about her. Have you grown attached?" I teased. 

He colored slightly. "Even were my flesh weak, I could never be tempted by something that plain. It is her spirit I am concerned about. Her deceit is devouring her soul."

"I am certain she has a good reason to be deceitful. She seems to be of good character. Her secret does not seem tawdry."

"If it were not tawdry, why would she need to hide anything?" He stalked away in silence.

We parted ways. I do not wish to speak of the time Diana and I passed in the city. You know the tales of the governesses and their misfortunes. This is not that story. We received letters from Jane every week, and sent her missives with the same frequency. Her letters carried the same air of melancholy, growing worse each passing week. We did not understand her pain or why it did not lift.

"Well, sister dear, maybe you do not understand her pain. Those of us with more passionate sensibilities do," Diana said, grinning at me.

I sighed. "Well, sister dear, maybe it is better that I do not understand."

Time passed, as it is wont to do, until one day a very shocking letter arrived from our brother. Jane was our cousin?! The inheritress of the twenty thousand pounds? And... Mr. Rochester? Apparently our theories were right on that count, but Diana and I were in a daze. We packed our trunks with full hearts.

"I cannot believe the nerve of that scoundrel, attempting to commit bigamy with our Jane!"

I arched an eyebrow. "Our Jane?"

"Admit it, dear, you have become quite protective of her as well."

"I feel as if she is more innocent than we, somehow. She has experienced many harsh realities, yet retains some spark of naiveté."

"Be that as it may, it was still horrible of him to do, more so yet if she has an innocent spirit."

We journeyed to Moor House, where we there met Jane and St. John. Many pleasant hours were spent together, sitting by the fireside and laughing joyously. Our brother, however, had better (and `higher') things to do, so he was rarely present. His higher callings seemed to extend to other areas as well, such as his apparent complacency in the issue of Rosamond Oliver's impending marriage. I could not believe he was not more moved.

Jane seemed, by steps, more and more bewitched by our brother. He compelled her to give up the study of German. She clung on his every word. And then, a strange ritual was instituted whereby, at our evening parting, he kissed her upon Diana's request. It was an odd sort of kiss, not sisterly but not romantic. Diana did not see anything amiss, but I was not so sure.

Weeks went by in this fashion. Jane seemed to further decline as her attachment to my brother grew stronger. Diana hoped that she might possibly marry him and live with us forever. I was not so certain this was wise, especially considering her seemingly unending feelings for Mr. Rochester and the strange sort of control my brother exerted upon her, but held my tongue. At least it would secure her a more certain place in our family than she currently occupied.

One day in May, they went on a walk together. When they came back, she was visibly upset, and he was cold as ice. I did not know what happened, but was sure it was not good. Diana finally coaxed it out of her. Marriage? A mission in India? Oh, it would kill her. If she was already failing here, she would surely perish in months there in that hot and forsaken land.

And then the fateful evening came. Diana and I went to bed early on a whispered imploring from St. John. None of us knows what transpired that night, but in the morning, Jane took her leave. You know what happens from that point, reader, but we did not, and the news of her reunion with Mr. Rochester was surprising indeed, but somehow... expected, I suppose.

In her time with us, Jane gave us a lot. One thing she gave me that might not be readily apparent was a heightened romantic sensibility. After all, if she, a very plain girl indeed, could fall in love and then reunite under seemingly impossible circumstances, what was to say that the rest of us could not even merely fall in love? And so, when I met Mr. Wharton - Henry - I opened my mind and my heart to life's possibilities. 

I thank God every day that we took in the half-dead girl from the rain that night. Had we not, I shudder to think what my life would have been.

 


End file.
